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Thursday, August 20, 2009 at 10:45AM 
That's Just The Jets Baby
by MOLLY LAMBERT
"Like a melted Barbie" is how one ONTD commenter described the face of murdered "Playboy representative" Jasmine Fiore. An insult with the sting of truth, what would have been merely snarky days before, becomes horrific having learned that Ms. Fiore was killed and her body stuffed inside a suitcase.
Jenkins douchebagging it up on VH1's "Megan Wants A Millionaire"
Ryan Alexander Jenkins, 32, was a contestant in three episodes of the VH1 reality show "Megan Wants a Millionaire," about a woman trying to land a wealthy bachelor. Fiore's familyhad heard that Jenkins was an investment banker, but police described his occupation as a former reality show contestant.
black hole sun, won't you come, and wash away the rain
The body of Jasmine Fiore, 28, was found about 7 a.m. Saturday in a dumpster at an apartment complex. She had been strangled, police said, and was nude when found, stuffed inside a suitcase. The body was found by a man rifling through the trash for recyclable bottles and cans.
Jenkins thinking Patrick Batemanish things about golddigger Megan
Fiore met Jenkins at a Hawaiian Tropic event in Las Vegas on St. Patrick's Day and fell in love, but later she said she had broken up with him and returned to an ex-boyfriend. Fiore was part of a love triangle between the two for several months.
Jasmine Fiore at The Lingerie Bowl in '08
Fiore and Jenkins had left Los Angeles together Thursday and were bound for a poker tournament in San Diego according to her mother, who had been staying with her. Fiore left with her suitcase "packed to the gills...probably the same one she was stuffed in," says her mother.
actual graph on wikipedia as of me writing this blog, note the purple
Things like this happen all the time in Los Angeles and everywhere else in the world. It is not glamorous. There is a certain particular sadness to the fame-seeking aspect of the case, in order to remind us that Jasmine Fiore is the same species of hot blooming Hollywood flower as The Black Dahlia.
Meanwhile a much discussed sex tape reveals precious little sex but tells us everything about the sad lives of D-List actors Eric Dane and Rebecca Gayheart. Cocaine and threesomes with former teen beauty queen turned Hollywood madam Kari Ann Penicheare staged like a digicam porn version of "My Dinner With Andre."
A credit card number is recited and bleeped out. Everyone appears far too strung out to fuck. It is a sad scene, smoking cigarettes in the jacuzzi, particularly when you remember that Rebecca Gayheart committed vehicular homicide on a child while talking on her cell phone (probably also coked off her face).
If we record everything, will it help us understand anything about human nature? That a reality show contestant posing as a millionaire would secretly be a murderous scumbag is not shocking. It's surprising that this hadn't happened yet. Reality TV by its nature will attract narcissists from the fringes of society, mostly nuts.
Budd Dwyer was the first person to kill himself onscreen in front of a live TV audience, in front of five news cameras in 1987. He pulled a shotgun in his mouth after handing out envelopes containing various suicide notes he had prepared.
John F. Kennedy died in front of cameras. If we can do it in real life, why can't we show it onscreen? In the future people will demand that their deaths be broadcast.
I've been obsessed for years now with the syndicated show "Cheaters," which purports to show cheating lovers and spouses getting caught in the act. Sleazy host Joey Greco takes the wronged partner along a path of revenge and redemption, leading them to confront the cheater. Sometimes the third party in the love triangle starts a fight, or storms off. Once Joey Greco got stabbed in the stomach.
the line between reality and Tim & Eric is so thin sometimes
"Cheaters" is staged. Or it isn't. Does it make us less morally culpable to watch a staged show that preys on human desires for fairness and accountability in life, things we rarely actually get? Does it matter that the show is so obviously staged, clearly violating lots of laws and always getting a clear shot of the "cheating" couple fucking in front of a hidden camera? What kind of art is this exactly?
morally bankrupt and incredibly Twilight Zone
The last time I remember being genuinely freaked out by reality television was The Swan, the 2004 Fox show where "ugly people" are given "plastic surgery makeovers." If you told me that show was staged (by David Lynch or Cronenberg) I would be relieved, but it was horribly real. That nothing went wrong during any of the surgeries barely seems possible.
China's "Green Dam" censorware program for children on the internet
Is there a line? Where do we draw it? Even if we sanitize TV, there's always the internet, and the internet always shows everything.
Molly Lambert is the managing editor of This Recording. She tumbls here. She twitters here.
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Reader Comments (6)
I just don't watch television any more. Ten years of mostly uglilessness and counting.
Meanwhile, after clicking a link to the right, we find:
http://www.thefrisky.com/post/246-first-time-for-everything-rough-sex/
"I’ve been trying to find words to describe just why it’s so exciting, and, despite writing daily, I find it a challenge. If you’re not into any type of BDSM, I doubt you can understand the thrill, but I’ll try. You know how sometimes your mind drifts off during sex? (And please don’t tell me it’s never happened!) Even if the sex is good, sometimes your mind just goes somewhere else. Well, when someone is slapping your face or choking you, that doesn’t happen.
It’s not only that it keeps me firmly rooted in the present, nor is it only psychological, though that’s a big factor. It’s physical; the minute he starts to get rough with me, I get wet, excited, ready. My body responds just as much, if not more so, as my mind. The same way kissing might pull the trigger for some women, choking does for me—or rather, getting choked by him. I know for sure that there are plenty of past lovers who’d have been booted out of bed for trying it with me; that just wasn’t what we were about. But with this guy, it’s all about adrenaline.
Is it scary? Not in the sense that I think I’m going to get hurt, but sometimes the depths of my reactions do unnerve me. I also think there’s a cultural sense in which women, especially feminists, aren’t supposed to say they like rough sex like this, lest it be equated with violence against women, so let me be clear: I’m not condoning violence or non-consensual activity in any way."
Molly, I'm not trying to be provocative here; maybe you'll ignore me, but I'm genuinely curious to read your take on this as it resonates (possibly) with your article...
molly, it wasn't a shotgun! it's right there in the picture.
Reality TV is like a nightmare I can't wake up from. Every time I think it's over, I'm just right back where I began. Think too hard about it and all I get is a headache. It raises questions with no answers. How do you meaningfully address something so depthless in art? How do you address it in writing? It's like there's nothing there, a very loud and unnerving nothingness that won't go away. The more I ignore it the closer it gets. Obama, help us!!!
fantastic piece.
Ugh. This is horrible.